COD: Modern Warfare: Infiltration
by Bourguit
Summary: John and Adepero are undercover agents in Sierra Leone, where they have to find information against the PRF. They will ensure that their mission is a success, but hope that their cover isn't blown in the process.
1. Chapter 1

Bono wouldn't come here. The PRF is the only true celebrities in Sierra Leone. Outside Africa, their thugs with guns, but inside Africa they finance healthcare, food, and work. They were brutal, but smart enough to be useful to the people. Being born in Haiti, John Paul Baptist's family is very familiar to a life under militia control.

John walks the streets. He's in an old white shirt already set with sweat stains, beat up pants, and shoes that are starting to get clammy. He's thankful his old black hat that's giving his head some shade.

He's noticed that people are looking at his suitcase and guitar case more than him. He feels like Antonio Banderas in Desperado, although having anything but a guitar inside his case would be suicide. He turns the corner and sees a street vendor selling non-brand name cigarettes, water, sunglasses, cheap lighters, playing cards, and mint gum. All on a dirty folding table.

He drops his suitcase and guitar case in front of the table. "How much for the sunglasses and water," John asks.

"Six dollars," the vendor answers.

"Six dollars for this and this," John asks again holding the items in his hands, assuming showing the vendor would correct the math.

The vendor laughs a little. "Yes my friend."

John pulls out four crumbled Leone dollar bills. The vendor frowns, taking the glasses from John's hand and replacing it with a pack of gum. "Two dollars…two," the vendor replies. As John pays, the vendor says, "I thought you were American."

John smiles and answers, "Je suis haïtienne."

The vendor looks John over, but John smiles through it. "Haitian?"

"Oh, vous savez créole?"

"A little….Krio and English…," the vendor smiles as he puts the money in his pocket.

"Ok, have a good one." John pockets his goods, grabs his suitcase and walks away, calmly. He continues to smile at the people that pass him by. He knows. He can feel it; the PRF's eyes are upon him.

John walks into the lobby of "the Sunrise," the only decent hotel in the town. Adepero Bayo is at the bar wearing a simple white cotton dress and old plastic slippers. As she turns and smiles at him, he's reminded of how beautiful she is; short soft hair, dark brown skin like chocolate, and a model's smile.

"_Asita_! Adebowale!" She runs to him as he quickly drops his case. They hug and kiss. "I missed you my husband."

He's immediately reminded that her accent is amazing as well. "Chioma…I forgot how beautiful you are." He smiles as they look into each other eye's, he can't help himself from getting lost into her hazel eyes.

They kiss briefly before they hug again. He whispers through his grinned smile, "I was followed. Watch my six." He doesn't need to ask her what she sees. She's been trained to isolate messages through millions of digital code. She could find a small boy hiding behind a car outside the hotel.

She pulls away and plays with his scruffy and untrimmed beard. "Do you want to see my cousin's baby? She's with him upstairs."

Code words, she's worried and wants to know if they need to grab the weapons their liaison smuggled. "She can wait."

With the saddest expression he's ever seen, she tears. "I love you, Asita."

He wipes her tears away and kisses her. He says, "I love you too, Chioma."

They take their time with the next kiss. Other guests in the lobby have to start to look away, the only good sign that their act is working and going as planned.


	2. Chapter 2

Grilled shrimp with fresh papaya blatjang, grilled steak lightly coated with papaya skins, and fried plantain with spicy sausage patties returns to the kitchen table mostly eaten and covered with napkins. John and the staff eat off the trays and bowls as fast as they can.

After a month from eating spoiled food to small meals, leftovers from feasts is a grace from God.

Mashing the warm food in John's mouth is only momentary enjoyed before he swallows and shoves more food into his mouth with his hands. He takes a small piece of plantain and a half eaten patty and puts them in his pocket. He acknowledges the few brief looks from his co-workers; that'll be all he'll be allotted to keep for Adepero.

They hear Emule Grey, the hotel owner, makes a joke outside the kitchen door and they scatter to their assigned ends of the kitchen and continue cleaning dishes, cooking food, or taking out the garbage.

Emule walks into the kitchen in that split moment. "Cake…cake!" John looks around and then at Emule. "Yes, you Asita…hurry up!"

"Yes sir, yes sir." John quickly cleans and dries his hands. Then he takes the yellow cake with white icing from the fridge that was set aside from this morning.

"Knife…idiot."

A staff member wraps a clean knife in a clean white clothe napkin and gives it to Emule. John walks out the kitchen with Emule.

Singing and laughter start amongst the killers and rapists in orange shirts and faded green pants as John and Emule walks past them. The high rank officers sitting with Captain Mosey stand up and move the empty bottles of beer and glasses of red wine to make space for the cake. Others are cheering Captain Mosey with loose women close at their sides, only keeping their AK-47's closer.

But John isn't fooled by the smiling faces. The same people cheering are the same people behind midnight massacres and drug trafficking. Stories and reports the Pentagon and international press already know about, but the people won't get the support they need until it involves WMD's.

As John puts the cake on the table and moves back, Emule says loudly, "Ok everyone all together. One, two, three…happy birthday Captain Mosey….happy birthday Captain…"

A large explosion echoes through the town, followed by a loud alarm coming from their compound. Captain's Mosey's voice is suddenly cold when he yells, "Move!"

Captain Mosey and his men run out of the hotel. John reacts with recoil and fear, as trained. But he can feel it in his gut; Adepero's mission failed.


	3. Chapter 3

They expected men with guns on patrol. Not men taking bullets through the chest and still running after them.

"They got bullet proof vests! Shoot their heads!" John's orders were followed, but he still felt that something is wrong. John expected his team to face a readied defense, especially in the mid-afternoon – the only window of opportunity that John's five person team could enter the compound with less resistance. But front on attacks with bare hands against high grade assault and sniper rifles didn't make sense.

As were the tall, lanky dead bodies lying around. Even worse, John sees signs of a heavy firefight from the trees they pass. By the age of burns, they look like they occurred only days ago, his experience tells him to be worried.

As they approached the buildings and towards the holding cell that held Adepero, a rush of PRF soldiers and civilians came charging at them from out of the woods. They all look sickly, beaten, and battered. And their clothes are covered in dried blood.

"What the hell…human kamikazes?"

"They're crazed!"

"Stay focused people!" John leads the charge as they shoot everyone down, but more soon follow. "Everyone create a perimeter and provide cover fire! I'll proceed to target! _Hold-this-position_!"

John runs into the holding cell, his rifle leading the way. He hears a cough in a back room and makes his way there. The first thing he sees Adepero tied on a table by her arms and legs. She's pale, dehydrated, and thin. Then he sees tubes full of green and yellow liquid and small machines he's never seen before. He didn't want to imagine the hell she's been through in the past two weeks.

She turns her head and she tries to talk, but only mumbles.

"Save your strength," John says has he halters his rifle on his back and starts to untie her ties.

She asks him in a weak voice, "What are…you doing here…."

John answers, "I used the government's fears against them. After my cover was blown, I went into woods, taking pictures of trucks with biohazard signs from Russia and Germany going in and out of the compound. I claimed that some company must be transporting chemicals to assemble a WMD. I sent them pictures with the promise to grab sensitive data and you. I got approved with a delta team for your extraction ten minutes later."

"John…"

"And Emule was easy enough to break and bribe with American freedom for him and his immediately family to get the camp's breakdown and your whereabouts."

"No…John….go…get away from me…"

"It's ok, you're sick but we'll make you better." He carries her easily in his arms; by his calculation she weighs ninety-five pounds.

"John…no…they did something to me…to everyone…"

He says in his helmet's microphone, "Johnson, green light for evacuation."

John hears in his earpiece, "Roger that! Command, we're taking in heavy enemy forces! Need evac at sector one-bravo-six-charlie! We'll be lighting a green flare!"

John carries Adepero to the front door, where he stops at the horrid sight of hordes of people running at his team. People with bite marks on their faces, cuts on their arms and limbs, and holes in their stomach kept coming from the woods. His team's timing was in sync; when one reloads the other provides cover, providing constant push back. But still they came. Shoot full of holes, crawling on the ground, they moved forward with murderous intent.

"John…John…" John looks down at her. "Plague…John…"

"Command! Command! What's your ETA?" John heard nothing. "Johnson, light another god damn flare!"

"Yes sir!" A second flare is lit, but only more people came; large groups coming at them straight and at both flanks.

John sees something flying in the horizon, its shape slowly exposed after it moves away from the sun. But his heart drops when he sees a slick black jet heading for them. "Command, we're still in the target zone! Redirect stealth bomber! Do not deploy bombs!"

"John…leave me…"

"Everyone fall back to me! Now people, move…move…move!"

His team shoots on the run, proceeding with caution as they lock the doors and shoot through the broken glass windows.

"Provide cover fire! We'll survive the wave in here!"

"John…not support…"

Some of the soldiers looks at each her and then at John. "Command, please confirm ETA for rescue helicopter. Command! COMMAND!"

John sees their faces become bleaker. And what little hope he had left him when the bombs started to be dropped and explode, ten yards away from their position. Then and only then was it clear, they stumbled unto something big and classified enough to have both a rescue helicopter and bomber at the ready.

They all give each other a look as a red inferno burns through the horde and rushes at them. As they embrace each other, a small part of them knew this action wasn't personal. Failure to retain a known or unknown biological or virus strain is not an option. They confirmed knowledge of it, so there was no need to secure samples. And if there would be no extraction, then there would be complete eradication; whatever the cost. It wasn't personal, it was modern warfare.

Fin.


End file.
